Marge the Goer
by OTHandOCaddict
Summary: Things have changed in Springfield. A deadly disease has been severely contracted ever since Lovejoy of all people commited his sinful act. It's "Marge Fever," and the local blue-haired wife & mother of three is a woman addicted to adultery.SMUT/COMEDY :
1. Chapter 1

**Story Title: Marge the Goer  
Chapter One :: January 16, 2010**

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

"I'm going straight to hell-diddly-'ell!"

"Shut up", the croaky-voiced woman grunted, "and fuck me harder!"

Cries of ecstasy filled the room. It was quite clear who the gentleman was. No other Springfield resident could pull off what had become a sort of 'catchphrase' in sentences. And Maude had passed away years ago, so who was Ned having his way with? Well, Marge Simpson. The town slut, unbeknownst to her husband of all people.

Even Bart and Lisa knew it; and hell, Maggie had probably even clued on. It was as if Homer was the last remaining soul to see that his "perfect wife" was anything but. He'd never expect it from her for starters. And when you see someone as being a conventional of a wife as her, thoughts of adultery never cross your mind.

It's not that Marge didn't love Homer. She did. She also loved sex. And that's where her dopey husband under-achieved, persistently.

The blue-haired "Slut-Outta-Hell" (a nickname Ned would soon give her) rode the devote Christian father of two as if every little detail of her life depended on it.

"Harder. Harder," she panted breathlessly as Ned sat with his back, drooling, like _he_ was the new Homer.

"Forgive me, God," he pleaded, clearly enjoying the sensation but asking for redemption – while committing the act of all things!

"Oh, my God!" Marge screamed. "Oh, God. Thank you for the cock you gave your whiney little protégé, God," she said with a grin. The slapping of impact filled the room, one after the other, and the pace fastened.

"Arghh!" Ned groaned with a sharp sensation.

"Here he comes!" Marge shrieked with glee. With complete control she thrust herself in him deeper and quicker than ever. "Fuck that fuckin' pussy, you pansy!" Her wild side was, as you can tell, quite wild. Marge Simpson on your TV and Marge Simpson on her Slut Tour were two completely different beings. "FFFUUUUUUUUCCCKKK-AAHHH...... MMEEEEEEEEE-OHHHHH!"

Marge shouted at the sheer capacity of her lungs. "FILL ME THE _FUCK_ UP!" she demanded vigorously.

"Oh-aghh," Ned whimpered, like the pussy Marge took him for. His package was substantial, but his mindset was like that of some shemale nun. And as frustrating as it was for Marge to bear with, it's what made it fun. It's what made it so taboo, and Ned was unique in that way. Hell, even Reverend Lovejoy was a careless brute in the sack. Bondage, name-calling, all other kinky shit; believe it or not, he was the king of all that in this two-faced, sex-crazed town.

And Lovejoy was the man to 'ignite the match' for Marge, so to speak. He was her first in well over 20 years (apart from Homer, of course) and made her the town cum-doll this past year. On the occasional visit to Shelbyville, Lovejoy would call upon all newly-legal women and (more often than not) be the guy to pop their cherries. Eighteen year-old, half-normal, half-country-hick girls who saw Lovejoy as high end. How this man was still considered a "Man of God" went completely out the window. Sure, all his "companions" were of legal age and sound mind (except perhaps Brandine), but for a fella who stands up every Sunday in spreading the Holy Word to then five minutes later go sticking his dick in whatever so wife or teenager he desires is utterly fucked up.

Anyway, back to the story. To cut her sex romp with "Good-Fellow Flanders" short, he came, she laughed maniacally, she got dressed, he got dressed, he projectile vomited with guilt, she pissed on his carpet. Yeah, disturbing. But that's how Marge Simpson was now.

Next stop: Moe's Tavern. Marge drove her orange station wagon through the cold night. She wore a sparkling red dress, no bra, and only the skimpiest of g-strings. Easy access for all the drunken oafs. As she turned a corner in town, police lights flickered on the car behind her.

Marge pulled over, opposite the comic book store, with nothing but a sigh. Still partially drunk from an early night's drowning of wine (that she helped herself to at Flanders'), Marge knew what must be done. Chief Wiggum was on duty, and the only thing that liked more than doughnuts and cash bribes were sexual favours. Better yet for Marge, her hair turned the chubby guy on. Sickly, because they shared the same hair colour, Wiggum fantasized it as incest. And Marge would've dry-reached at the thought, but that decent side of her was erased long ago. Hardcore was her game now.

"Hello, Marge Simpson," Wiggum said with a distinct cockiness. "Can you blow into this for me."  
"Yes, but--"

Marge stopped in her tracks, taken aback by Wiggum's frank attitude tonight. It wasn't a breathalyser test the copper was referring to; his cock lay on her unwound window. She didn't even need to make the offer tonight, and Wiggum's public exposure didn't seem to faze him. Be it the streets were dead quiet but it wasn't like that could change in an instant.

"I'm gonna have to ask you to step into the back of your car, miss," Wiggum said with mischievous authority. Happily complying, Marge opened her car door once Chief backed away enough. As she stood onto the pavement, Wiggum grabbed her ass. "Had any drinks tonight?"

"Oh, you know, nine or ten glasses," she smiled wickedly.  
"That's a good slut," he slapped her ass and squeezed it.

Marge opened her back door and got in, Wiggum following. Unbuckling his belt, he sweated to take his pants down. Normal Marge would find this rather large, rather simple-minded man grotesque; this Marge found him oddly sexy. "Back end tonight, Simpson," he ordered and Marge moved accordingly.

Lying on her stomach across the back seats, Chief hastily lifted her tight dress and rammed himself inside her asshole, milking the opportunity for all its worth. So thin it was, the g-string didn't interfere one iota. Wiggum thrust inside her ragged, used-up ass time and time again. Wiggum panted, snickered and snorted (giving further evidence to recent gossip of his possible pig ancestry), while Marge moaned wildly – albeit forced and fake for the most part, to satisfy her "bribe host."

It was at that point Marge noticed Comic Book Guy outside her window, staring in at her face.  
"Trampiest. Mother. Ever," she heard him through the closed window.

Marge rolled her eyes, having readily predicted Comic Book Guy would yank out his dick and start jerking. The even fatter oaf opened the opposing back door and welcomed his manhood (what little there was of it) to her face. Wiggum didn't mind a smidgen, only encouraging the giant nerd-man to satisfy the slut they had all to themselves.

'Marge Simpson: The Slut' had become a sort of legend to Comic Book Guy. The title sounded enough like the name of some X-Rated Comic series. His rubber sized penis (yes, it did technically still qualify as such) grew two-fold as he stroked in inches from her clenched jaw.

The next thing Marge knew, a few piss-weak strings of cum flew her way and Comic Book Guy howled like a wild boar getting it up the rear.

"Biggest. Premature. Ever," Marge mocked Comic Book Guy with his own thing. And rightfully so; that climax nearly went undetected. Talk about problems... ghseez!

More formidably, it was now that Wiggum had his own release. Right up in her ass he emptied his load, and Marge shrieked from the thrill of it. Her new persona melted at the thought of what had just happened; she _loved_ the thought of cum settling inside her, just like Flanders' had not so long ago.

"Be on your way, m'am," Wiggum said courteously, lifting himself up with a struggle and a grunt.  
"Thanks again, Chief. I'm so glad the force looks out for me," she gave him a smile.  
"Extra hard for you, Simpson," Wiggum said fitting his pants and belt back on; "If you know what I mean," he chuckled the pig-like way only Wiggum does. The pair shared a polite, "good-doing-business" smile before parting separate ways to their steering wheels. Comic Book Guy was nowhere to be seen and thankfully so. Poor fella was probably embarrassed, but there was no way Marge would spend any more time with someone like that. Two seconds in and he shoots -- and probably shooting blanks, too, the strings were that damn flimsy!

Marge started her engine and drove the minute or two to Moe's. She pulled up on the road's side, behind Homer's pink sedan, turned her own off, and stepped out. Patting the creases out of her dress (having been extra busy tonight) she headed inside the tavern. Carl, Lenny and Homer were on the stools, quite obviously not in the clearest state of minds, as Moe cleaned a stein glass with a filthy rag. The grey-haired, born-with-unfortunate-facial-features bartender spotted Marge almost instant.

"Oh, hey, Midge," he welcomed her, a bit shifty-eyed.  
"Hmm," Marge made that frustrated little noise in her throat. "Marge," she corrected him.  
"Hey, look! Homer's wife's here!" Lenny held his beer up to her and Carl and Homer looked over to her with reddening eyes.  
"Hey, I screwed you last night," Carl said, about as drunk as you could get before passing out.  
"Shh!" Moe quipped to that last reveal. Thankfully, Homer didn't seem to register what Carl had said, so blinded by the beer.

"So", Marge spoke up, keen to change the subject before Homer could have some freak, delayed reaction; "Where's Barney?"  
"Taking a leak," Moe replied, understanding it wasn't just Marge's curiosity that asked the question.  
"Oh, okay," she answered conservatively, standing there for a few more seconds as the three drinkers slowly drew their eyes back on the drinks in their hands and off her.  
"Go," Moe mouthed to her, and Marge promptly made her way past the fellas with their backs turned, into the Men's Room.

A minute later, soft bumps were heard coming from the toilets. Then slightly louder moans and groans; but neither Lenny, Carl nor Homer tuned into it.  
"Just gonna go take a dump, fellas," Moe informed the trio. He could hear the sounds of fornication in his tavern's toilets loud and clear, knowing full well it was the reason Marge had shown up. He swiftly exited the bar place and joined Marge and Barney in the piss-infested room even too putrid for a toilet.

There was Barney sitting up against the wall with Marge riding his large frame like a slut possessed. Friction was aplenty as Marge's tight ass slapped hard against Gumble's multitude of flab. Making himself useful, Moe dropped his pants and crouched down behind Marge. Running his hands down her waist then up in front to her breasts, his dick grew. They bounced in his grip as the woman rode Barney to whatever pace she saw fit. Nudging closer to her, Moe controlled his hard-on, steering it to her ever-moving ass hole. Not desiring to put a pause on Marge's fun, he directed the insertion himself. After six or seven attempts at "plugging" her, his tip finally dug inside Marge's butt. She moaned a little more in that instant, before Moe gyrated himself up and down in the rhythm she was. Balancing himself with the palm of his hands, Moe pierced further into her with each thrust.

So here was the slut being done in two holes. Double penetration and she was fucking adoring it. Neither man was exactly dreamy or hunky, but Marge didn't mind one bit. They were dirty like her, therefore she viewed them as good enough sex buddies.

Twenty minutes flew by, with multiple orgasms here and there by multiple participants. And not a peep came from the three drunks just meters away on the other side of the door.

Moe opened the bathroom door chivalrously for Marge first. She walked out patting down her ironically elegant red dress. She looked a million bucks but was whoring herself out, and for free, to make it all the worse! Moe then walked out a smiling customer, chuckling away as she watched Marge's butt walk away. He'd been staring at it for so long in there, he pictured it bare naked right now.

"See you later, Homie," she strolled up beside her oblivious husband and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Bye, fellas," she shot a glance to Carl and Lenny as Homer didn't respond. Still too heavily dosed on the alcohol.  
"Fuck you later," Carl remarked inappropriately again. It was more than fine to speak like that with Marge fucking all your troubles away like she had done the night before, but not whilst her husband was right there. Geez! But it wasn't his fault, for he too remained wasted, as did best friend Lenny.

Marge rocked up at home; the clock read 11:05. The kids were asleep as Marge checked in before departing for her room. She stayed up for another hour watching porn on the new TV in their room. On low volume, she played with her nude body all over to a home-made compilation video of Springfield's biggest slut: herself. Having the men around town tape their certain escapades with Marge got her hot beyond anything else. Actually fucking these guys and being a complete slut in the particular moment was incredible, but to have them on playback was twice as hot.

Her front and back had been the firing hole of four different men tonight alone and even still it was barely enough. Marge couldn't wait to wake up tomorrow and do it all over again with whoever she so desired. She was an utterly whored-out, cheating wife and mother of three. That's the way she liked it. Being the "goer" of all things dirty in this Marge-addicted town.

"Maybe there'll be some pussy tomorrow," Marge whispered as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

**End of Chapter One ("Marge the Goer")**  
_Please review if you can! Whether short or long; whether you hated it or liked it. :)  
_I tried to mix this with a heap of comedy and some references to the show. Making a full-on, serious smut story about The Simpsons would _never_ be my thing. The eccentric characters can't really go without being kinda funny.  
_Chapters will follow if the story generates enough interest – or even if it gets one extensively positive review :)_


	2. Chapter 2

**Marge the Goer: Chapter Two  
Date Written: January 27/28, 2010**

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Marge sat her booty up high on the Church altar, whimpering and short of breath from it.

"It's the only way, Marge," Lovejoy announced, his commanding tone echoing through the empty church that was lit only by the night sky. He waited a moment, hands in prayer, before digging his head in between Marge's thighs.

As the Reverend ate her out, she howled and cried like a misguided wolf. She let the man do what as he pleased, but she wasn't happy about it.

"God forgives you, my child!" Reverend Lovejoy bellowed as he broke free from Marge's most private areas. Areas she'd promised under oath never to share with anyone other than her husband.

It was then that Marge's eyes flew open, free from her dream. One she'd dreamt so often and referred to as a _nightmare_. Of course, she'd never told anyone of it. Just maybe telling the story would liberate her or give Marge closure, but she'd never felt comfortable enough to resort to it.

She lay in the bed, sweating profusely with the memory of what Lovejoy had done to her. Nevertheless, she was an untruthful, disloyal woman nowadays, sleeping around constantly behind Homer's back.

She blinked her fuzzy eyes open some more and looked to the bedside clock. 5:43. Time for her early morning fuck. She moved with stealth off the bed, like a snake slithering away. Flashes of her dream ran vivid through her head, then more explicit images from the scene. Marge ran into the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet bowl. She hovered over it for a while, hanging her head with shame as she walked vaguely to the hand basin nearby.

"You disgust me, Marge Simpson," she looked up above, into the sinks mirror. "Could've been so much more," she shook her head. It would appear her entire adultery lifestyle was some sort of fabrication, forced upon her, as if she had no choice in the matter. But in reality, that's not how this thing went down. She adored her bang-a-minute life. Fucking friend after friend made her hot at a whole new life. Husband, wife, or husband and wife together, Marge screwed all those that she shouldn't.

And she couldn't deny her true feelings behind it all. Lovejoy might haunt her now, but he was the one to turn her conservative world into a messed up, all-kinds-of-kinky one. If it weren't for him, she'd have remained an unsatisfied wife. And that may not have bothered her if she didn't now see first-hand what such adventures entailed.

**xxxxxx**

"Just two more minutes for a free medical, Marge. Uh-heh-heh-hehh," Dr. Hibbert chuckled, Marge knelt down at his crotch. His cock was out and she was sucking it like crazy. His pre-cum dribbled down her chin as she took him whole. For a guy of his race, Hibbert wasn't bestowed with the largest penis.

The pair was in Hibbert's office, and had been for the last ten minutes. The doctor's groans and grunts were heard distinctly from the reception desk and waiting room, but not a soul flinched. The hot, brunette receptionist rubbed her panties under the desk, juicing as her boss made yet another patient "happy."

Two old woman, both in their mid to late 70's, and a 20-something year old man waited on the fold-out chairs, each reading their magazines and ignoring the noises of their town's highly-respected medical expert.

Hibbert shouted like a boar as he came, filling Marge's mouth chockablock. She squeezed her tits while swallowing down her doctor's load as best she could.

"Go tell my wife you did well, Marge. Uh-heh-heh-hehh," Hibbert chuckled some more as Marge swiped the back of her hand over her mouth.

She brought her dress back over her boobs, adjusting them into a comfortable place. Marge eyed the clock. 6:28. She would be late for her next sex partner: Bernice Hibbert. See, this was one of those families where Marge acted as a constant. Julius and Bernice were one of Marge's most loyal couples and customers – though keep in mind she done this for free.

Marge didn't say a word as she left Hibbert's office in her sparkling red dress. The same red dress she wore the night before, and now beared numerous cum stains. Very over-dressed, but anyone who knew the line of work Marge now took pride in understood her reasoning well.

Before dashing out of the building, Marge and the receptionist caught eyes. With some subtle hinting so as not to alert the nearby waiting patients, the two women met up in a small room out the back and went at it. Each brought a climax to the other and drank down their lover's cum. It would be quite an amazing sight to see, and it would be the first of many times these two would "cum together."

**xxxxxx**

Marge rang the doorbell of the Hibberts residence. The low-set house was wonderfully-crafted, inside and out. Nice white brick walls with sky blue linings on the outer and finely polished walls with various priceless artefacts on the inner.

Bernice answered the door and welcomed Marge in; her kids gone off to school. For a woman that acted and dressed so professionally and appropriately in public, Bernice was a fox in the bedroom. An absolutely open book ready to try just about anything offered. Marge brought a brown lunch bag, in it a considerably thick dildo. It was her favourite one of Marge's, and with limited foreplay, the two women stripped one another bare.

"Julius came _extra_ hard today," Marge told Bernice, the woman's cunt juicing already from the sight of her blue-haired sex partner.  
"I noticed," Bernice said, taking Marge in her arms. "Can smell him on your breath."

The pair kissed, embracing the tongues they loved to play with. At the second Marge broke it, Bernice shot vertically down, squatting at the helm of Marge's honeypot. Feasting on the mother's cunt, Bernice squeezed Marge's legs tight so her nails dug in. Changing it up, she nibbled the outer regions of Marge's pussy before darting her tongue inside, fingering it, and then playing with her clit at a furious pace.

Marge sat on the bed, dying for a release in her legs. Thirty seconds of Bernice's grasp had really taken the wind of out them. And as Marge got more comfortable, Bernice turned the sensation up a notch. She licked, fingered and mangled every part of her face in Marge's pussy. It was saturated not only with its pre-cum, but Bernice's saliva, so erratic was the woman to eat it.

Not a minute later, Marge took a strong hold of Bernice's. The black woman's fingers ploughed deep inside Marge – nearly to the point of fisting – before she let loose on the anal. Bernice spat across two fingers and then crammed them up Marge's back door. She moaned and thrashed wildly on the bed as she approached her best orgasm in a while. Not even a threesome with the real deal dicks in Barney and Moe got her off like this one-woman show was.

With one sharp, ear-piercing screech, Marge came. Her juices gushed into Bernice's filthy mouth and her legs shook uncontrollably. The feeling of a genuine climax was too good to bear and well worth the wait! Once settled, Bernice moved up Marge's body and forced a deep kiss on her. Happily, Marge obliged, fingering her lover's pussy once she felt around and found it.

As Bernice lifted off her, Marge lopped herself off the bed, onto her knees, and on all fours. This was one of their favourite games. Bernice hopped lightly on Marge's back and the blue-head crawled to the bedside table with the woman on her back. Once there, Bernice stood back up and over her, willing for Marge to do as she pleased.

Grabbing the thick, mild-mannered in length dildo, Marge gestured for Bernice to lie down. And she obeyed, for Marge was her master. Femdom fantasies came no more down to earth than with Bernice Hibbert. She went the whole nine yards, consistently. That was her greatest asset.

Her pussy still aching with pleasure and her thighs still quivering, Marge yanked the bedside drawer open, snatching the strap-on belt from inside. Bernice watched, teasing her pussy and having a taste of her juices whenever she felt the need as she waited her turn. Marge fitted the dildo onto the fabric and then tightened it around her waist.

She gyrated her hips over Bernice's legs, thoroughly enjoying her little pre-sex tease. Then as Bernice spread her legs to either side, Marge thrust her body close to the woman's – her fake cock sliding deep in the soaking pussy below.

Marge softly extended the dick out then jolted it sharply inside Bernice again. This time the woman groaned with the penetration.  
"Fuck me, Marge!" she demanded as her pussy was made subject to once more. "You cheating whore," she hissed, getting off from her own dirty talk.

Building a rhythm, Marge continued screwing the wife of Springfield's most trusted doctor. And if he were here right now it would make for one hell of a sticky threesome. Bernice's pre-cum juices drooled out at a frantic rate, drenching the bed linen. The pink flesh on the walls of her hot cunt glistening with the soft early morning light, as Marge barrowed deeper and deeper inside her pecker.

"Cum!" Marge groaned with vigor. "Cum," she slapped Bernice on the cheek. "I said CUUUUMM!" Again, Marge bitch-slapped the woman, and Bernice loved it. This was the kinky sort of sex she appreciated. Playing rough was an added bonus to having Marge Simpson's hot ass pounding you.

So caught up in the emotional connection, Bernice's nearing orgasm went unnoticed. Her pussy gushed fluid as Marge retreated the dildo from the infinitely-lubed-up hole. Cum coated Marge's groin area before the blue-head scooted her body down and took an elongated climax to her face. She sat giggling as the flow of squirts drowned her to an unrecognizable state. It was well and truly a facial not to forget; the biggest she'd ever experienced with Bernice.

All Marge could taste and smell was cum.  
"I'd love to stay, Bernice, but I've got a 7:30," Marge regretted to inform. "Could you help me out?"

Bernice knew precisely what that meant, and as Marge leant over her with juices dripping from her face, Bernice whiffed in a smell. More than anything, she loved drinking down her own cum off the skin of her lovers, and that's exactly what she done. Marge would have to leave in a couple minutes, and that was just enough time for Bernice to make her all pretty and presentable.

She sucked and licked the cum off Marge's face, moaning in the process. It was such a nasty treat - one she'd masturbate to until her body – pussy and fingers - could take no more.

Once Marge's face was cum-free, she got herself dressed. Still, she reeked of the heavenly-scented fluids. Not that her clients minded -- the majority of them preferred it that way.

From there she went to deadbeat Kirk Van Houten's family home. His wife Luann was out, and Kirk knew where. She was in the same business as Marge, except her clients paid and paid big money. Luann wasn't the most attractive woman around, but she complied with anything asked. The deepest, cruellest desires could be lived out with that woman and Kirk didn't give a damn. As long as the money was rolling in, the Van Houten parents were content with a lifestyle many labelled sickening.

After Marge was done pounding Kirk (yes, that's right, _Marge pounding Kirk_. No surprise he liked a woman with a man's package), she left him puffing on his bedroom floor, off to her next "meeting." She was a busy woman today, one fuck after the next, like a business professional.

Homer was too dull to question her whereabouts (for the few times he was at home to realize, meaning weekends) and even to catch on with subtle and clear-as-daylight hints. It was almost a play-by-play of when Marge was pregnant with Maggie and Homer was none-the-wiser. Residents around town were congratulating him and he went on oblivious as to what they were _actually_ referring to. This was the same, except Marge's clients knew Homer was utterly unaware of her "job," and their hinting was often a form of mockery. Mockery in that this oaf hadn't clued on and that their snarky little comments here and there went unnoticed. His wife was giving herself up for zero wage and screwing everyone around town; it was always a comedic topic to land on.

After Kirk came (literally) Joe Quimby; town Mayor and big-time spender throughout prostitution rings. He'd made countless offers to Marge for him to be her pimp. But however much he tried, Marge never budged. She wasn't doing this for the money... for now. So, Marge would just fuck Quimby extra hard so as to keep his crafted sentences and political bullshit to a minimum, and this morning was their most _hardcore_ meeting yet.

"Oh, yeah. Oh, baby," Joe groaned, voicing his typical form of appreciation. For a guy that slept with so many woman (which the whole town always knew about, even Homer), Quimby wasn't too well-endowed. Marge had to do just about all the fucking herself, his dick was so insignificant.

For kicks and giggles – and a nice sensation afterwards – Marge let Quimby shoot his load inside her. She was on the pill anyway, and since he was sweating like a slob and pig, she might as well get this over with. Marge didn't exactly enjoy her time with Quimby but she grew satisfaction from how dirty and unnecessarily skanky it was.

Marge had quite the day ahead of her. She stopped off at Dr. Nick's (dangerously under-qualified) clinic and fucked his brains out; then onto Kent Brockman's mansion and his higher-than-thou personality; Judge Roy Snyder's overnight apartment where she got down with him and his two middle-aged prostitutes (who were, as Marge assumed, done in for some sort of crime and this was their way around the system to stay out of jail); and lastly, for a warming three hours, her twin sister's place. It was quite a nice touch to end the day. The three of them would sit around naked in the bedroom, tasting each other whenever and however they pleased. Numerous climaxes followed as the late morning sun turned into a heat.

12:47PM and Marge had her favourite client of the day. Saying her goodbyes to Patty and Selma (which weren't on their traditional-sensed lips, but ones far more pink and sensitive), she headed off to the wealthy side of Springfield.

Marge yanked the hand brake up and turned off the ignition. Movie star Rainier Wolfcastle walked down the driveway, greeting Marge with a chivalrous kiss on the cheek. But that was the last glimpse of charming from him, and before long he had Marge bent over in his acreage of living room space. This was where Marge moaned and groaned like nowhere else. The man known well for his on-screen renditions of McBain had the most extraordinary "equipment" she had come across yet. With each thrust, he slammed her g-spot.

To orgasm three or four times before you barely realised it wasn't out of the norm for a fuck session with Rainier. Her pussy took a pounding and her legs trembled madly like jelly, but still he kept her pleading for more.

The extended visits always let off any steam Marge may still have after a long day. Fucking all those dicks and not having the release she needed, her favourite days were having those few hours with her sisters followed by a rampant all-out session with Rainier.

Driving home, Marge kept one hand on the wheel as the other rubbed her pussy. With her sparkling red dress up to her crotch, she fingered and tasted herself all the way back.

She smelt deeply of the day she'd had. Either cum or sweat was soaked into just about every inch of skin on her body as she washed it off in the shower, once again finger-fucking herself. If she had any real sense, Marge would turn herself in to a rehabilitation center for sex addicts, but she never even considered. The passion she felt for her lifestyle was a passion she hadn't felt in years. The men and women she became intimate with appreciated her beauty, whereas for Homer, not so much.

Still, when she picked Maggie up from Daycare and the kids from school, Marge went back to acting like the perfect mother. And when Homer got home from work tired and hungry, she was the perfect wife. Everything in her second life was put on hold when she had time with her family.

And it was that night - when Homer tried his best to ignore the topic of their household bills once more - that Marge weighed up her options. Homer was clearly avoiding the subject and it was most likely due to their financial situation.

She would sleep on it, but Marge decided maybe it was time to start charging her clients. After all, having whored herself out for free, she had established a healthy credibility. Every willing husband and his wife what a good fuck Marge Simpson was. With a price to pay, she wouldn't lose many (if any!) cliental. It was a sure-fire way to rake in money. Raise the income with tax-free dollars. And all the while, maintain her biggest love of all: the sin of adultery...

_

* * *

_

**End of Chapter Two ("Marge the Goer")**

_Fun to write; was it fun to read? Let me know! =)_  
Shed a glimpse of Marge's encounter with Lovejoy; a sort of mystery storyline as to what made Marge this new woman.

Next chapter, we'll see money-hungry Marge$!!$ :D


	3. 3: Fear The Edna

**Marge the Goer: Chapter Three  
Date Written: May 29-30th, 2010**

_**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**_

"I'm sorry, Mrs Simpson, but Bart will have to repeat the fourth grade."  
"Oh, dear."

Mrs Krabappel had delivered the bad news.  
"Yes, but it's not final. He could still pass for the right price." What? Edna Krabappel was offering a bribe? And so blatantly?  
"Oh... oh, well, I don't know..." Marge shifted uneasily. "We don't really have the money, Mrs Krabappel."  
"Call me Edna, Mrs Simpson," she said, before eyeing off the blue-haired mother's busty cleavage and licking her lips. Either she was oblivious as to what she was doing, or wanted to make it crystal clear.  
"Well then call me Marge," she smiled in reply, happy to know the terms of that opportunistic bribe.  
"Okay. Marge can I see your-"  
"Breasts? Sure." Without hesitation, Marge popped her puppies out, one by one. She wore a one-piece dress, but it wasn't her typical green one. It was black leather and the bustiest thing a woman could wear; her boobs looked like they could've exploded in it.

"Do you like them?" Marge asked, already knowing the answer as she watched Krabappel drool.  
"Take me, Marge. Take me right now," Edna stood up, pulling off her shirt in a hurry.  
"I prefer 'fuck me'."  
"Yes! YES! Ravage me. Fuck me. Do WHATEVER you WANT with me!" Krabappel hopped up on her desk and lay across it.

No negotiations were necessary. A deal was a deal and her son's life would advance because of this. Krabappel's office was so quiet and peaceful, but little did either woman know (or perhaps chose to neglect) that the door was not locked. Marge pulled and wriggled herself out of the remarkably slutty dress. She had been down at the Springfield Police Station not one hour ago getting the living daylights banged out of her from respectable members Eddie and Lou. Her ass (cheeks _and_ hole) was particularly sore and her snatched still reeked of man seed. Not that Edna would mind one bit.

Marge took the role of authority, joining Krabappel and making good use of the 69 set-up. Marge was butt naked now, what with the absence of a bra or panties – the markings of a true slut. But Edna still had some inconvenient nuisances preventing Marge from an unprecedentedly quick start. She tugged at Krabappel's very conservative skirt, nearly tearing it on several occasions, before finally Edna helped her out. Both women were at the point of no return now... just how they liked it. Krabappel had wanted this for so long; ever since she heard about this mother's secret double life from who else but Principal Skinner.

"Fuck my cunt, you boring bitch!" Marge screeched as she aggressively face-fucked Krabappel. And just as she felt the lips of her lover latch on, she yanked Edna's out-dated (and highly embarrassing) granny-panties down, shoving two fingers into her hole with brute force. As big a turn-on as Krabappel _had_ been, Marge could've thrown up all of Officer Lou's, so ghastly was the sight before her. If this teacher would invest in a razor, maybe she wouldn't be so lonely and grumpy. Her bush was a throwback to the afro haircuts of the 60's! But to her credit, Marge didn't back down. Good thing she wasn't in the mood to make a meal of a pussy, because there was no way she was putting her lips on this... "thing".

Marge fucked Krabappel like crazy, to the point where the teacher couldn't give anything in return.  
"AHHHH! AHHH-WOHH-GAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" Edna moaned and shouted to the high heavens. "DO ME, MARGE! DOOO MEEEEEEE!" Before Marge really knew it, Krabappel came. As good as Marge was at pussy-banging, no-one could be _that_ good. She'd only just started and the damn woman had climaxed! Talk about being desperate. "Ohhhh," Edna sighed with pleasure. "Stop... stop," she smiled just a little, covering her face as she recovered.

Marge was speechless. That was the briefest sex of her life; which said a lot, being married to Homer and all. She got up slowly off the desk.  
"Is that it?" she asked, bemused and dumbfounded. "It that all you want?"  
"That was _amazing_," Krabappel chuckled for a glimmer - sounding quite stoned and out of it.  
"Um, if you don't mind me asking, Edna... when was the last time you done it?"  
"Eight _long_ years."

"Fuckin' hell," Marge thought to herself. "Eight years?" She felt like spraying Krabappel about how embarrassed the teacher should feel. For starters, the woman wore undergarments that Marge's own mother only just started on. Her vagina looked like some scientific experiment gone wrong where last signs of maintenance were tended to when Reagan was still in power. And it was shameful how quickly she came. _Definitely_ not a 'customer' Marge was keen on returning to anytime soon.

"So you'll pass Bart, then?" Marge asked the all-important question. After that unique experience, she wanted some reward or justification.  
"Yes, Marge. He'll pass... AS SOON AS you taste your fingers," Krabappel alluded to Marge's 'fuck-tools'.  
Oooo. This could be the deal-breaker. Dare Marge taste the cum of a woman she now found gravely repulsive? They stunk of a wild concoction somewhere between rotten crab and a scat-enthusiast's bedroom. Nothing about Edna Krabappel was desirable.

In one foul swoop, Marge met fingers with mouth. The pair of women held a gaze together as Marge tried her best not to wince or throw up as Krabappel's ungodly juices made their way down her poor, suffering throat. It was all as if Edna knew the pain her cum brought – how badly it tasted – and indulged herself with this evil plot.  
"HAAH!" she taunted as Marge grimaced then drew her fingers back out in a hurry.  
"My little man passes, Edna," the mother reminded one last time, opening Krabappel's door to leave.

There stood Ralph, finger-in-nose, outside the office. How long had he been there? Did he hear anything.  
"Hello, Ralph," Marge greeted him, her mind buzzing with what this dim-witted little boy could've heard, and (thankfully) more-than-likely didn't understand.  
"Hello, Mrs. Bart." Marge rolled her eyes. Sigh. He couldn't help it if his age surpassed his IQ.  
"Ralph, sweetie, did you hear me and Mrs Krabappel in her office just now?"  
"Uh-huh," he nodded dully. Still, even though he'd heard them, chances are his pea-sized brain didn't comprehend the nature of what those sounds meant.  
"Now, Ralph," Marge addressed him once more, crouching down to meet his eye level and putting her hand on his shoulder; "You can't tell anyone about any of this, okay? Not even your dad. This is all grown-up stuff. Do you understand, sweetheart?" But Ralph only looked at her blankly.  
"Your hand smells like my cat's toilet."

Okay, this kid needed no convincing. He was stupendously incapable of knowing what in the fuck was going on. Which meant he couldn't spread the word about this bribe of sexual pleasantries. Marge could live to FUCK another day. Not that the cops or community at large wanted it any other way.

**End of Chapter Three ("Marge the Goer")**


	4. Chapter 4

**Marge the Goer: Chapter Four  
Date Written: January 23, 2011**

"Hello, Mrs. Homer. Will it just be the usual today?"  
"Sure will, Apu."  
"Okay. One tube of KY Jelly and two packets of condoms coming up," he reached underneath the counter. Apu didn't really have to say out loud what she'd come to the Kwik-e-Mart for. He just loved making it known to the one or two customers cruising the aisles how much of a slut Marge Simpson was. Many of them would peer their heads over out of interest, and if Marge was in the mood (which was almost always), she'd bang their brains out shortly after in some back alley. "Busy day today?" Apu couldn't keep from smirking as he placed dropped Marge's r-rated items into a plastic bag.

Marge _did_ have a busy day. Those condoms and KY Jelly would last just today and next – that's how busy her little 'fuck schedule' was. But she didn't answer Apu regardless.  
"That will be twenty-two eighty-five."  
Marge opened her purse and went to her notes. But where her cash should've been, was a note left by Homer. 'Marge: Me, Lenny and Karl have gone to find Pandora. Very close. If I'm not back in two days, tell Santa's Little Helper and Snowball I love them. Homer.'  
"Hrmm," she moaned. What an idiot her husband was. Sigh... "Could I put this on a tab, Apu?"  
"Ooh, I'm afraid not, Mrs. Homer."  
"I'll pay you back tomorrow... Is there some way I cou-"  
"Yes. There is a way."

Apu and Marge stumbled into the back room – their hands all over one another. Apu's "way" came as no real shock. He wanted sex in exchange for the goods. What _was_ surprising, was that this was their first time doing it. In all the months on end Marge had come into the store looking like a coke-head prostitute, reeking of sweat and cum, she'd never jumped Apu. But now she had needed to, thanks to Homer's money-squandering.  
"Oh, Mrs. Homer!" Apu cooed.  
"Fuck me, Apu!" Marge was quite enjoying this. This Indian shopowner knew how to use his cock, and she could feel a genuine orgasm coming on.  
"Ohh! Oh, I am going to cum!" Apu shouted. "Take my cum, you _American bimbo_!" He didn't bother to ask if she was on birth control, and he honestly didn't care. But he had always assumed she must have been, looking the way she did.  
"Fill me with your spooge!" Marge exclaimed. She felt him deep inside her – Apu's spunk painting her insides white.

When the pair was done, they left the back room together and came out to an empty store. They said very polite goodbyes to one another and Marge grabbed her bag with the condoms and KY. It was 8:30 and she was already late for her next customer. Marge got in her car and waited. She was right where she needed to be.  
"You're _totally_ late," a voice lurked from the backseat. And then the figure lunged forward. It was Snake – regular Springfield criminal and the man Marge was once so terrified of. But past experiences didn't matter none, and their little setup here was in the theme of rape. Snake clamped his hand over her mouth, pulled her to the back seat with him, and literally tore off Marge's clothes. They had a blatant disregard for passerbyers looking in.  
"Now be quiet so I can rape you," Snake demanded. Marge wriggled around, but only for role-play. She was just as into this as he was. Snake flopped out his boner and shoved himself in Marge. She was off to a great start today with two new dicks that she'd never had before, and they were both so fulfilling.  
"PLEASE STOP!" she screamed, _loving_ it.  
"No way!" Snake banged her like a mechanical bull. He picked up speed then went all out. It was hectic stuff.  
"AAAHHHHHH!" Marge cried, putting on tears now. The penetration did hurt – there was no doubting that – but she thrived on pain, at least up her putrid cunt.  
"I'm _totally_ going to cum," Snake winced. Marge was disappointed by that. The raping had barely just started and he was finishing up already? Talk about a premature ejaculator.

Snake burst inside Marge; his spunk oozing out of her. Oh, how she loved creampies.  
"Please don't rape me anymore," Marge plead, but they both knew she wanted the exact opposite. And this was consensual sex, but the fantasy of it being rape got them off.  
"I took extra Viagra today." Snake's dick hadn't gone too limp before it straightened up again. They screwed in the backseat for a good while longer; Snake restraining himself from firing off too early again. Unbeknownst to them, the police station received a couple calls in from the local neighbourhoods about some alleged rape. And in no time at all, Wiggum was at the scene of the "crime". For a second time that week, he fucked Marge in her car. How stupid was this cop that he joined in on the rape. Even if it was artificial rape – the public didn't know that. So here was Wiggum, Chief Police Officer, double-teaming who many thought was a victim. He was just lucky nobody saw in there (or did and chose to ignore it).

The three of them done position after position. Wiggum had to sit out every couple of minutes, on account of exhaustion, but Marge had to commend him nonetheless. He was a step-up from when they done it a few night ago. When the little sex romp wound down and Wiggum returned to his cop car without so much as a good "see ya", Apu came scampering in to fill his gap. The Indian bastard had been watching everything from his shop window, and was now packing quite the boner. Marge was already covered in cum. It spread from her face to her tits, and then gargantuan amounts were deposited on her crotch and backside. Apu jerked off onto the palms of Marge's hands and watched intently as the mother cleaned it off with her mouth.

Marge was well and truly a vile slut. Her car reeked of semen and indulged in it. Well after the Snake and Apu had gone, Marge lay licking every blob of cum off of the seats and even the floor of the car. She had no shame. Her entire body was one extravagant cumdump, and she made sure to clean herself by downing every last sticky drop. Marge had surely had her serves of protein for the day, and then some.

The rest of the day was about as eventful as any other. She got in six clients and considered bringing up the idea to them of getting paid. But she never did say anything. Instead, she just fucked and sucked every cock and vagina put out on the table. And because Snake had ripped her dress to sheds, she was prancing around naked everywhere. That's yet another indication of how slutty and nonchalant this Marge was.

When 2:30 came she thought it was time to go buy some sort of attire, as she had to pick up the kids at school shortly and change back into Marge Simpson: Mother. She walked the through the aisles of a local K Mart and had every man, woman and child sneak a look. Of course, it wasn't exactly legal to publicly expose yourself in that manner, so the store's security gave Marge an ultimatum. By this point it should be pretty clear what the blue-haired nymphomaniac done. She took the big black security guard into the toilets and got her brains banged out. Marge didn't even wait for his semen to stop dripping from her cunt as she scooted out and fetched a nice black dress. Going through checkout, the K Mart employee practically ignored her.  
"Nice tits," she commented. But that was it. "$49.95," the woman held out her hand for the cash. Marge only had a $50 – lucky. One of her fuck-buddies of the day – Mayor Quimby, surprisingly - had given her that as a sign of good faith. Marge didn't really have to go for a dress this expensive (as it was most likely going to be spat and jizzed on time and time again), but she loved dressing up for her occasions and she thought this piece was a knockout.

Marge pulled up out the front of the school. Bart and Lisa jumped in the back and immediately began bickering about something. Marge didn't care what; she was more occupied with her next fuck buddy. So much so that she almost hit Moleman crossing the road.  
"Mom, what are we doing outside Burns?" Bart questioned as the car pulled up out front of the most extravagant property in Springfield.  
"Oh, God. Don't do it mom." Lisa knew damn well what Marge was doing. "It's Mr. Burns!" She was disgusted by what her mother done as a 'profession'. It made her skin crawl.  
"You kids wait in the car," Marge ignored Lisa's concerns, turned the engine off, and made her way to the gate. It opened for her, because Burns had in fact been watching and waiting.

Inside Burns' luscious mansion, Marge was escorted upstairs by a bitter Smithers. She was greeted by the malnourished, hundred-and-something year-old in his bedroom. Burns was already nude and Marge considered what her chances were of literally fucking him to death. _Hrmm. High_, she thought. Ultimately, he didn't die. But his dick was long gone. He "ejaculated" every couple of minutes, which for starters meant that this little visit would end about as prematurely as he did. And I put "ejaculated" in speech marks, because he fired blanks, and not a single drop of cum came out of him.  
"Here. Is this what you want, you filth?" Burns threw a couple Benjamins her way, like some common whore. (Okay, a common whore _who gets paid well_.) But Marge graciously accepted them nonetheless. "Smithers!" The old, frail man was done with her. And that had officially been the worse sex Marge had ever had (yet ironically, it was her biggest payday). Waylon ran up to his boss' door, frowning as he saw the guy of his dreams naked with Marge. That's when Marge noticed the bulge in Smithers' pants. And when he escorted back downstairs and to the front door, she dropped to her knees and pulled out his boner. Marge knew he was hot for Burns and other dudes, but she wanted some cock in her mouth and she wanted it now. Hell, she may even be able to turn the queer.

Smithers fought at first, but then just ended up enjoying it. Marge popped out her tits, and as Smithers spurted his cum, she made sure they hit her puppies. Marge moaned at the warmth of the spunk, before squeezing her boobs back in the dress and getting out of there without saying another word. As she got back in her car, Lisa attacked immediately.  
"You're the worst mother in the world," the eight-year-old hissed. Cum still lathered Marge's cleavage and it was putrid to the kids.  
"That's good, dear," Marge said, oblivious to Lisa's hateful (and very fair) words.

This was who Marge was becoming. _What_ she was becoming. Putting sex before her children. Marge Simpson was growing into a bigger slut MILF with every passing day...****

END OF CHAPTER 4


	5. 5: The Family Enemy

**Marge the Goer: Chapter Five  
Date Written: April 8-9, 2012**

The whole of Springfield knew what a slut Marge Simpson had become. Well, everyone except her husband. Homer somehow remained utterly clueless. His soulmate had built up quite the rep all over town. She enjoyed the sight, taste, smell, and feel of a man's spunk and a woman's juices. Marge lived to get used like a whore, and every cock and pussy she got her hands on fuelled these desires more. She didn't do it for the money.

Sideshow Bob was her next 'companion.' He may have tried to kill her son more than once, and yes, he was a psychopath, but she still wanted him. As a matter of fact, that was why she wanted him. She got in her favourite sparkling red dress and drove to the penitentiary holding Bob.  
"Morning officer, I'm here for a conjugal," she welcomed the man at the front desk. When the black cop saw the blue-haired vixen, he immediately choked up. It's not every day you see a woman come in here dressed the way she was. Police usually arrested women looking the way she did – like a streetwalker.  
"Name?" he cleared his throat, trying to be nonchalant.  
"Marge _Cock-Whore_ Simpson," she answered with a smirk, knowing full well she had this one in the bag.  
"M'am, I'm going to have to ask you to be more respectable," he cleared his throat again. A nervous tick. Marge shrugged her shoulders, smiling wickedly. The officer swiftly picked up a clipboard beside him and looked to scan it. This was a convenient diversion from Marge's breasts, which were also busting out of the seams. "I'm sorry, m'am, I don't see your name here and conjugal appointments must be made in advance."  
"There must be some way around it." Marge ran her hands from her waist to her cleavage and popped her tits out. "Like I said, I'm a cock whore."

Ten minutes later, a dishevelled officer wandered from a back room and Marge soon followed. She had cum leaking from her ass but of course this meant little to her. Her new fuck-buddy officer walked Marge to a nice cosy room with a freshly-made bed and with a smack to her ass, left to get the man this slut had come here to see. Sideshow Bob had no clue that the visit was coming but he welcomed it. He was put in handcuffs and escorted over to the best part of prisons. Bob walked into the small room extremely subdued and confused. His handcuffs were taken off and the door was closed behind him.  
"I'm not here for a conjugal am I? You really got my hopes up, you know?" He was bitterly disappointed. Of all the women that would want to bed him, Marge Simpson was never a remote possibility in his eyes.  
"You're a dirty criminal... and I'm a cheap fucking whore." She uncrossed her legs and lifted up her dress. Sideshow Bob gulped hard. Marge spread her cunt lips apart and watched the bulge in Bob's pants grow. "Trust me, Bob, you're here to fuck me." She then let her tits breathe and motioned for him to come closer.  
"Turn around. Bend over." Bob instructed as he walked towards her. If he was going to fuck the mother of his arch nemesis, he was going to do it right. "You've already had somebody in your ass today, I see," he commented on the jizz seeping from the woman's backdoor as he tugged his pants down to his knees.  
"One of the officers," Marge replied with a certain smugness.  
"Exactly how long has this whore been living inside you?" He put his hands on her ass.  
"Not long enough. I've only had 28 different dicks."  
"Twenty-_nine_!" Bob shoved himself in Marge's cunt and she felt amazing. It had been years since Bob had even seen a pussy in the flesh and now he was ploughing Marge Simpson. "How does it feel? Huh? How does it feel?"  
"It feels fucking small!" she egged him on.  
"I'll show you small." Bob drilled her harder and faster. He was a well-endowed man and they both knew. Marge got off on making him feel inadequate and she knew such insecurities would make someone like Bob fuck all the better.  
"Fuck me, you psycho freak!" Marge cried. "Fuck my slutty cunt! Fuck-!"

Bob came. His dick took fire and he slumped on top of Marge like some under-achieving, self-satisfied wimp. She probably should have guessed he was a premature ejaculator.  
"Come on, keep fucking me. Come on!"  
"Sorry, no can do," he said, unapologetically. "My dick won't get hard for another hour."  
"What?"  
"Nevertheless, I did what I wished to do." Sideshow Bob drew himself out of Marge and wiped the jizz still dangling from his dick on her ass. "I came in Marge Simpson's pussy," he said with a sense of accomplishment.  
"I can't believe I wasted my time with you," Marge put her boobs back in and her dress down.  
"Sluts do not deserve my sympathies. Run along."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Marge was left mumbling to herself in frustration on her drive way home. She wanted a good fucking but Sideshow Bob was a hit and miss. Then the idea came to her. Marge knew who she wanted pummelling her next, and ironically, it was another of Bart's enemies.

The blue-haired, hazel-eyed mom smelt of sex as she greeted the principal, Seymour Skinner. The two exchanged pleasantries and engaged in some small talk before Marge dove into the deep end. Skinner knew nothing of her second life (he was one of a mere handful in that respect) and was about to be filled in. Marge projected an aroma of pussy and dick like most days and exposed herself as if it were nothing. Skinner was commenting on Lisa's smarts when out of nowhere Marge sat herself on his desk and spread her legs, her red dress hugging her hips as her crotch drew full attention. Seymour stammered on queue. He didn't have to ask Marge about the touching policy. He went for it, sliding one finger in her twat and then another, occasionally voicing his approval and delight. A couple minutes in, something caught Marge's eye. Groundskeeper Willie. The Scotsman had perched himself outside Skinner's office window, making no ghost of himself as he watched in plain sight. Marge had come here after school hours hoping a faculty member would catch her seducing Skinner and it had come so easily. She gestured for Willie to come to her and in a heartbeat the redhead man scattered. Marge had no doubt in her mind he was accepting her invite and not the other way around. She sat there and relaxed as Skinner fingered her some more, just waiting for the groundskeeper to come through that door. And sure enough he did.

"Willie!" Skinner exclaimed, launching back from Marge and into his chair.  
"You're both going to fuck me." Marge said, as if stating a fact, one that had been established ions ago.  
"Ay. On the floor, lassie." Marge practically catapulted herself to the ground, lifting off her dress and lying there naked. "You take the mouth, Skinner." Roles had reversed and in this situation, Willie was the boss. Both men kept their eyes on Marge as they undressed. She was putting on a little show for them, rubbing herself, squeezing her breasts. It was an exquisite sight for two very ordinary men but the fact Marge had always found Willie quite grotesque made this all the hotter for her. Her pussy was literally dripping by the time Willie wrapped his arms where her calves meet her thighs. His dick was one of the biggest she'd encountered, only second behind McBain's, which was certainly not something she expected. Skinner's on the other hand was deserving of playful ridicule. She couldn't have even if she wanted to though because within seconds he had his pecker in her mouth and it was a perfect fit. She loved being choked by a dick more than anything but using her tongue on one so small like this was just as nice. Seymour should had have control and domination but instead Marge battered his dick like a tornado would a rusted old shed. Then came Willie's dick. He certainly had an appropriate nickname because his thing was massive. Marge didn't need to do much but lay there as the Scotsman pummelled her like a pro. He was hung like a horse and hit the mother's g-spot every single time without fail. Marge came twice herself before Willie finally did. With a mighty groan coming from somewhere deep inside, Willie spewed his load up her cunt and pulled out when he was good and ready.

The trio didn't say a single word as Marge moved things on. She pushed Skinner's groin out of her face, rolled over, and stuck her ass up in the air.  
"That's for both of you," she wriggled her backside. The men got the picture and Willie straight away buried himself in her pussy again. He felt quite at home there, like a baby joey in its mother's pouch. Skinner took her butt and again Willie was robbed of a nice view. He had the principal's pale ass inches from his face but at least his cock was met with the soft surrounds of a beautiful woman's private parts.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Another day, another half a dozen loads of jizz in Marge's body that didn't belong to her soulmate. Homer hadn't come in Marge for months, he just didn't have it in him. Yet every time she went home and laid on that bed with him to go to sleep, she had other mens' seed in her. Instead of filling her with guilt and keeping her awake, Marge's infidelity helped her to sleep like a baby. And that night she had her favourite dream yet. It was filthy, of course, just how she liked them. Marge arrived at an 18th birthday party function dressed as nurse and went stalking for prey. For the birthday boy. She entered a small curtained room where she knew he awaited. It was Milhouse van Houten, her son's best friend. He looked handsome, not like the geek he was now, with just the right amount of facial hair for her liking and charming grin.  
"Hey, Mrs S," he said smoothly. Before she knew it, she was naked, riding Milhouse, and screaming giddy-up. He came in her of course. And then a really fucked up thing happened. Bart came through the curtains and he was eyeing her up and down. Horny and fresh from her creampie, Marge wanted to see Bart's manhood. She wanted to feel his dick in her hands, to have it tucked into the warmth of her cunt, and most of all to see the expression on his face as he came deeper inside of her than any man before him. Primal urges outweighed her instincts to nurture and this 18 year old version of her son needed to know what it felt like thrusting into where he came from. As Bart came closer so did her heart race faster. _Go for it, Marge. Go for it_, she thought. She lunged at his jeans and pulled them down with her. A million thoughts and fantasies ran through her head. Did she want this to only be a dream or did she want it a reality? Her eyes fixated on Bart's briefs for a beat before she acted again. Marge grabbed them, ready for what was to come. Ready as she would ever be. Awaiting the hard-on she could see underneath them to greet her face. Her hands shook with nerves and excitement as she took a deep breath and pulled them do-

Daybreak. A whining Homer went on about something that didn't matter, and Marge opened her eyes in a sickened way. Her dream had been cut short and at the most cruel of times. But perhaps it was for the best. As big a nymphomaniac as she was, incest wasn't her game, was it? Marge certainly wasn't going to do anything with Bart. Not at his age. And not in real life. Then again, if he was a stud a few years down the track, she had to ask herself some serious questions. Would she be able to resist him and would she even want to? Would it matter that she was his mother? Would Bart want her back? She decided that she would just have to wait and see.

When the time came, Marge Simpson would toss up whether or not to go to her only son for sex. That's the kind of woman she had become.

*******************

END OF CHAPTER 5


End file.
